


Numb

by QuinnThePotato (PotatoQuinn)



Series: Supergirl Drabbles [3]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Cuddles, Depressed Alex, Depression, F/F, Fluff, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 20:02:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11881797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoQuinn/pseuds/QuinnThePotato
Summary: Alex is feeling depressed. Maggie comes home and takes care of her girl.





	Numb

    There’s a bottle sitting on your table, but you don’t even have the energy to open it, let alone pour a glass. So you sit on your couch and stare at it, willing it to open on it’s own, wondering if you’d have the energy to pick it up to drink from it. Wondering what exactly set you off this time, sending you into this never ending spiral of darkness where you can’t even see five minutes ahead. You’re tired, you’re numb, and you really just want to curl up under a blanket and close your eyes until you feel, until something is different. But you don’t even have the energy to do that. 

    So you sit there and stare into space, lost in the darkness in your mind with no way out whatsoever and no motivation to try and find a way out. 

    Kara is at Cat’s, Maggie is working late, Winn and James are out doing whatever it is they do when there’s nothing else going on, J’onn is working late. Everyone’s busy, which is fine, you seriously support everything your family is doing, but with no one around, with no reason to  _ do  _ anything, you just sit there.

    You sit there and let your mind wander, and the voices echo, and you’re powerless to stop any of it. Powerless to ignore the hatred you’ve somehow dug up and aimed at yourself, to fill the void that it leaves in your chest, like someone took a spade and just, carved your heart right out. 

It doesn’t even hurt.

Eventually, you open your eyes without the memory of closing them in the first place, and you notice that you’re stretched out along the length of the couch. The bottle still sits untouched on the table, the apartment is still dark, and you wonder for a moment what it was that woke you. Then you hear it; a scuffle and a click, and your door creaks open. You don’t even twitch towards the gun you keep nearby, which should worry you, but it doesn’t. You just stare at the far wall with dull eyes and wait.

Whoever it is stubs their toe on something, and a string of curses fill your ears in a hushed whisper. A lamp is turned on, and you squint against the sudden flare to see the silhouette of your girlfriend trying to maneuver her way through the space. You watch her for a moment as she toes off her boots and sheds her jeans, tosses her jacket on the back of a chair. She places her badge and gun in their rightful places and strips off her shirt, and you just lie there, unfeeling, watching.

She gasps when she turns and catches your gaze, then smiles apologetically. “Hey babe, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You manage a one-shouldered shrug, blinking once. When you don’t say anything, she kneels next to you and reaches out, but she doesn’t touch you. “Hey, Al, are you okay?”

And you could lie, you could nod and force a smile and reach out for her, but you don’t, because you don’t even think you can fake a smile. So you shake your head, your brows crinkling, and her face falls into that concerned look she gets whenever you’re hurt. You notice her furtive glance at the bottle on the coffee table, the brief relief that crosses her features when she sees it’s unopened. She still doesn’t touch you, and you manage to find the energy to reach for her, latching her hand in yours. Your eyes tear up, and you hate it, you don’t want to seem, not weak, but, unable to smile in your girlfriend’s presence. She deserves a smile, a kiss hello, all that jazz. But you can’t bring yourself to so much as twitch the corner of your lips and you hate it.

She holds onto your hand tightly, and you feel the fingers of her other hand in your hair, scratching slightly at your scalp. “Do you know why you’re feeling this way?” She asks it quietly, with nothing but understanding on her face and gentleness in her voice. You shake your head again, and tears are now running sideways down your face, so you turn your face to bury it in the cushion. “That’s okay, Allie,” she says, stroking your hair. You look up at her, and her gaze is so soft, so kind, so loving. “Do you need anything?”

You sniff wetly and blink at her, her cheeks hot. You lick your lips and clear your throat. “Cuddles?” you croak out, hating the trembling of your chin.

“Yeah, of course! Just let me change into something more comfortable. You wanna stay on the couch or move to the bed?” She stays right where she is for the moment, and you’re thankful.

“Bed,” you answer, quietly. She nods and pulls you up, wrapping her arms around you for a moment before pulling away and leading you to the bedroom. She tucks you into the blankets, then digs out one of your old college shirts and slips it on. She leaves for a moment, coming back with a glass of water that she makes you at least take a sip from before setting it on the bedside table. Then she crawls in next to you and pulls you flush to her body, and you sink into her warmth. You sniff again, laying your head on her shoulder and tangling your legs with hers. “Love you, Mags,” you whisper, clutching onto her.

“I love you too, Allie, so much.”


End file.
